


White Mercedes

by bodyworklover



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: "I don't deserve you", After Hanukkah, Letters, M/M, Marriage, Oliver wishes he was good enough
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 21:37:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19776922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bodyworklover/pseuds/bodyworklover
Summary: A week and some after that fateful phone call, Oliver sends Elio a letter.





	White Mercedes

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by the song "white mercedes" by charli xcx <3

It arrived a week and two days after the phone call that changed everything.

Elio isn’t sure how he knew the address to their apartment in Milan, or how he knew they would have left Crema by the time the letter would have arrived.

“Elio!” Annella called from the foyer. “Posta per te!”

“Venendo, mamma!” Elio called from the living room where he sat watching the television with his father.

“From Oliver, in New York.” Annella softly mentioned, her hand gently massaging Elio’s curls. Elio paled, visibly tensing at the prospect of hearing from Oliver once again— the very real prospect.

“Bambino…” Annella spoke, sensing Elio’s change in demeanor. “Do you want me to open it with you?”

“No, no…” Elio’s breath was shaky. His eyes had not left the outside of the envelope since it was placed in his hands. “Va bene.”

“Okay.” Annella whispered. Elio quickly climbed the stairs and strode to his bedroom, making sure to lock the door and open the window before he opens the fateful envelope.

Elio had no idea of the mail’s contents, let alone if it would be fateful or not. It could just be: “ _Hey, man, I left my right espadrille in your closet, mind shipping it over here?_ ” But even that would be better than the silence Elio’s heard since the phone call. But, he knew what he wanted to hear; Oliver to beg for him, for his forgiveness, for him to come live with him and be his love in New York, because every city and village in the whole of Italy was haunted by the scent, sight, and sound of Oliver; because everyone close to Elio knew what had happened and it made him feel tainted. Like, when Elio’s parents and Marzia hosted a dinner intervention three weeks ago just to tell him he did not have to attend the school trip to the museum in Bergamo— he’d “lost” the permission slip several times and Marzia had mentioned the trip in passing to Samuel and Annella— and that was before the phone call that changed everything. Now, Elio just feels foolish; like a kid. But even worse; like a hook-up. Like a conquest. Like a final fling before settling down for marriage. The very thought sent a shiver down his spine. Nothing made him feel more tainted than that.

 _I promise I’ll change. I’ll do anything. Don’t throw me away_. Elio silently prayed, but somehow knew it was too late.

He quickly yet carefully opened the envelope, breath hitched, leaving the thick paper intact, free of tears or wrinkles where they hadn’t been present already. He retrieved the ecru paper from inside, unfolding it and quickly scanning the contents.

Elio did not want to read the letter yet, but at the same time, he wanted to absorb every word immediately; wary and missing anything remotely _Oliver_. He decided that now’s as good a time as ever, so he might as well read it sooner rather than later, because if he leaves it sitting on his desk, it will only haunt him and taunt him until he finally gives in to it’s allure.

With shaky, nimble fingers, and quick steps, Elio sits at his desk chair next to the window and begins to read.

_My beautiful Elio,_

_I am so sorry. I wish I could call you and hear your voice, but I know I’ll only be able to say the right words on paper. I am sorry I caught you so off-guard with my revelation during Hanukkah. I’m sure it wasn’t what you were expecting. But, don’t think it means I don’t care. I still care. I’ll always care. I remember everything. I always will._

_I never planned on getting hitched so soon after summer. I knew my parents were trying to lock it down with my father’s business partner’s daughter, but I didn’t think it would actually be a reality. When I stopped at my parents place in The Hamptons after I settled back in the city, they had a ring, a date, a suit, and everything. I had no choice but to go along with their plans at the moment. Maybe I can find a way out of this. But until then, I won’t even tell you her name. I don’t want you to think about it. I don’t want you to be sad. More sad than I’ve already made you. I don’t deserve you. I never did._

_You’re the one who made me realize this isn’t the life I want— the wife, kids, and golden retriever. The white picket fence. The classic American Dream. I always knew I wanted something more, but I never knew what I needed. You’re what I need, but I ruined that._

_I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve your love. One day, I’ll pull through, and I’ll be good enough. But, until then, I feel I should leave you be. You’re young, excited, full of life. You don’t want someone like me. I’m insecure, and ashamed of who I want to be, because I know my family will never accept me as such. I know this hurts you. Hurting you feels like I’m hurting as well. My heart aches for you, Elio. I wish I could be good enough to give you what you need. Please don’t forget me, but I beg you, feel free to move on. Live your life, my beautiful boy. You’ve earned it._

_I will alert you if I am to find myself in Italy once again. Please let me know if you find yourself in New York._

_Cor cordium,_  
_Oliver._

By the time Elio was done reading, his pale cheeks were coated in tears and his red lips quivered as sobs began to rack out of his frail body.

“ _Mamma!_ ” He wailed, unlocking the door and trudging into the hallway. Annella quickly emerged from her bedroom.

“Elio, bambino, what did the letter say?” She gasped.

“He’s gone, Mamma. He’s done with me.” Elio sobbed. His world felt like it was crashing down, as if the walls were closing in on him. He gasped repeatedly, trying to inhale some air, trying to gain some clarity.

“What do you mean? Can I read it, Elio?” Annella questioned as her son fell to pieces in her arms. Elio nodded, unable to form words through his cries.

Annella released Elio and retrieved the letter from his room. She quickly skimmed it while rubbing Elio’s back and massaging his curls.

“Oh, _bambino_ …” Annella sniffled, beginning to tear up herself. “I’m _so_ sorry.”

Elio broke all over again, violent sobs racking through his body and soaking Annella’s cashmere sweater.

“What’s going on? Is everything okay?” Samuel entered the hallway, probably heard Elio’s wailing.

“Can I show Papa the letter?” Annella whispered into Elio’s reddened ear. He nodded weakly.

“Goodness…” Samuel sighed. He did not skim the letter, he examined each and every word multiple times. His professor tendencies shone through. “Elly, I am so, so sorry. He really loves you. He always will. I know it.”

Elio shifted awkwardly, a cross between a shrug and a nod.

The three sat there for hours, on the floor in the hallway, in silence. Elio’s cries subsided, reduced to a silent daze. Annella rocked Elio slightly and massaged his curls. Samuel rubbed his back. Mafalda tended to her work after asking Annella if Elio needed anything.

He came. He left. Yet, everything had changed. Elio had changed. Nothing would ever be the same.


End file.
